Of D'Ysquiths and Chimney Sweeps
by I SingOnly4MyAngel
Summary: July, 1916. As the First World War rages, several individuals experience unlikely encounters with each other. Written in cahoots.
1. Chapter 1

"Bloody 'ell," the man next to him exclaimed as a shell exploded on the other side of the trench.

"Quite literally," Monty replied.

"Well yer right about that. These 'ere trenches are filthier than any chimney wot I've ever been in."

"Are you a chimney sweep, then?" Monty asked. It seemed a bit ridiculous to carry on a conversation in the middle of a battle, but there was little else to do. It helped maintain a sense of normalcy amid the chaos.

"Aye, weather permitting. I do jobs of all sorts really. Sometimes I'm a chimney sweep, sometimes a screever, sometimes I sells kites, and sometimes when it's cold I sells 'ot chestnuts," the man said with a grin.

Monty extended his hand. "Montague Navarro," he said. "You may call me Monty."

"Herbert Alfred," came the reply, a firm hand grasping Monty's. "But everyone calls me Bert."

"I take it you are from London?"

"Indeed I am! A proper cockney, through an' through. And yerself?"

"I live just outside of town. Have you heard of Highhurst Castle?"

"Of course I 'ave, who 'asn't?"

"Well, that is my current residence," Monty said in his most earl-ish tone.

"Blimey, I thought I recognised yer face! From the papers! Yer lordship, I suppose! Wot an honour!"

"Not at all, my good man. Monty will do."

"Oy!" barked the commanding officer from down the trench. "We're going over! All the men from me down to Alfred, follow on my command!"

"Well," said Bert, turning back to Monty. "A right pleasure meetin' you. I 'ope to see you again. If that castle of yours ever needs a proper chimney cleaning, I'd be glad to take the job."

"Good luck, Bert," Monty said warmly.

"An' the same to you, gov'ner."

"Ready your weapons!" the officer bellowed. "Steady… steady… now!" A wave of twenty or so men leapt up and scrambled over the top of the trench, charging into the field with a shout.

Sprinting head on into a barrage of German gunfire, Bert shot right back, his gun held out in front of him. Flying debris bounced off the brim of his helmet as there was shouting from somewhere to his left. Suddenly, a cloud of orange illuminated the surrounding darkness, and a wall of heat seared his right side, tiny pinpricks of pain scattered across his skin. He collapsed with a shout, the dirt he landed on extinguishing the lines of flame running across his jacket. A ringing in his ears left him deaf to the world around him, the gunfire and other explosions sounding as though he were under water. He felt hands on his arms and legs, accompanied by two blurry faces, and then he was being lifted, something stiff beneath him. He was vaguely aware of a tingling sensation in his right side, and then the world was black.

Time passed in a blur after that. There was a cot in a tent, some women in white caps, and the strong smell of pure alcohol. Then, at a different time, there was jostling, and the roar of an engine and sirens. Then, salty air, a breeze, barely noticeable over the moans of other men. More jostling. Then, finally, a blue sky, faint birdsong, a brunette woman giving orders, lots of stone. He was carried into a large, imposing building. Another woman was calling for Bella, and there was a hint of perfume.

"Name?" He heard the brunette woman's voice above him.

"Herbert Alfred," came the reply from one of the stretcher-bearers.

He thought he heard the yip of a dog, but that didn't seem to fit with the rest of his surroundings. The second woman called for Bella again. A scurrying sound. Then, nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bella!" Sibella called again. The corgi with the pink ribbon around her neck trotted over to the blonde woman and allowed herself to be picked up and carried out of the room. Bella's sister, Donna, looked up at her expectantly. Bella barked at Donna, who started jumping about and barked back. Suddenly, Bella leapt out of Sibella's arms and the two dogs took off down the hallway.

With an exasperated sigh, Sibella let them go. As if there was not a moment to lose, the corgis sprinted through several grand rooms, out the front doors of Highhurst, and down the hill, all the way to the next estate over, home to Lord and Lady Sitwell. They were there to see the Inspector.

The bloodhound in question was lounging next to Lady Sitwell in the gardens. Bella and Donna ran up to him, panting, and barked wildly. The Inspector perked up his head and growled thoughtfully, then barked an affirmation.

"Are those the Navarros' dogs?" Lady Sitwell asked aloud. She looked at the ribbons around their necks- a pink one on Bella and a blue one on Donna. "They must be," she decided. She rang a small bell, summoning the gardener.

"Yes, your ladyship?" the man asked.

"These dogs seem to have run away from Highhurst. Please ask one of your boys to bring them back home."

"Yes, your ladyship." The gardener picked up one corgi in each arm and wandered back to his small house, where his ten-year-old son placed them in an oversized basket and began the trek up the hill to Highhurst. Bella and Donna did not struggle. They had communicated the necessary information. The Inspector would take it from here.

Later that night, when the Sitwells and their staff were all asleep, the Inspector slinked out the impressive front doors and down the gravel drive. His people still had no idea that he knew how to open doors. It was one of many skills he kept hidden.

He put his legendary nose into the air. He smelled mostly chimney smoke, but there, in the east, was something else. A smell that he had first noticed years ago on a bearded collie mix named Andrew. He recognized it immediately and took off running away from the estate and all the way into London.

An hour later, he had found the source of the scent. He hopped up on his hind legs with his front paws against the iron gate. Lifting his head, he gave two loud barks, then waited, watching the upstairs window of the house. It took three more sets of barking for a dark-haired woman in a nightgown to part the curtains and look out to the street. She lifted the latch on the window to push it open. Shivering slightly as the brisk night air hit her face, she leaned out of the window.

"And just what do you think you're doing, barking loud enough to wake the dead at this time of night?" she asked in a loud whisper.

The Inspector whacked his tail against the front gate impatiently. Couldn't she tell he had something urgent to tell her?

Mary Poppins gave an exasperated sigh. "Very well, what is it?"

The bloodhound gave a long series of barks and howls, then sneezed, as if as punctuation.

"Bless you," Mary Poppins began, ever the picture of politeness. "But is he in any danger?"

He howled again.

"Well that will determine when I go! Did you see him yourself?"

He barked in the negative. Then, he whined a lengthy explanation.

"I see." She paused, looking up at the sky. "I'll wait 'til morning then, it won't be long. Do thank them for me."

The Inspector gave one final bark, bowed politely, and turned to go.

"Oh wait just a moment!" she called. She disappeared temporarily, back into the room, but returned to the window shortly. "Here." She tossed down to him a lump of something. "Mrs. Correy's gingerbread. For your services. I remember how fond you are of it."

The dog caught the bundle in his mouth, wagging his tail enthusiastically, ran about in excited circles for a bit, and took off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Mary Poppins was up with the dawn. She packed a change of blouse, an extra coat, a packet of hairpins, a bar of soap, the remainder of the loaf of gingerbread, and several other necessities in her purse- a compact version of her carpet bag. After laying out clothes for the children still sleeping serenely in the next room and snapping her fingers once to make her bed, she straightened her black hat, making sure that the daisies were visible, and smiled at herself in the mirror. Her reflection winked at her, returning her smile.

Walking downstairs on tiptoe so that her heels did not click against the wood, she found Mr. Davies in the kitchen, munching on a piece of toast. He was a distinguished, though often frazzled man of thirty-seven. He was the manager of Selfridge's department store and therefore a very important man in the London business world. This morning, however, was Saturday, and the store had a later opening time, so he was able to eat his toast at a more leisurely pace than usual. His flax-colored hair was impeccably combed, and he was wearing a well-cut suit, as was the case every morning. Every evening, however, he would come home with his hair going all sorts of directions under his hat after running his hand through it whenever he was stressed.

"Good morning, Mary Poppins," he said, surprised to see her.

"Good morning, Mr. Davies," she returned cordially. "I must inform you that I have been unexpectedly called away. I may return this evening, I may return in several days. However, should I be gone for more than a day, I do have someone who could temporarily take my place as nanny. Her name is Phoebe Figallily. She's a highly qualified nanny, and one of my great friends."

"This is not at all customary, Mary Poppins, leaving at a moment's notice. But I suppose it must be serious. I'm sure Deirdre can take care of the children for the day." He frowned and took another bite of his toast. The maid always got very cranky when she had to watch the children. At least he would be at work instead of at home, having to deal with her.

"It is indeed, quite serious. I do apologise for the inconvenience, but I find it necessary."

"Very well, then. I do hope circumstances resolve themselves soon."

"As do I," she replied. "As the French say, _au revoir_." And with that she turned on her heel and swept out of the kitchen and out the front door, which closed itself behind her. Stepping through the gate and into the street, she opened her umbrella and held it high, her gloved hand just above the carved parrot head which adorned the end of it. A gust of wind blew up underneath the umbrella, and she felt her black heeled boots lifted from the pavement. One hand holding tightly to her umbrella and her purse grasped firmly in the other, she floated upwards until she was above the clouds, tinted grey with potential rain.


	4. Chapter 4

Sibella woke to an empty bed. Phoebe was already downstairs, no doubt bustling around taking care of people. The blonde stretched her arms above her head and ran a hand through her curls before reaching over to ring the bell for the maid who would bring her morning coffee- a habit she had picked up while in Paris- and help her dress. It was early; she could tell from the colour of the light at the edges of the curtains. But she was definitively awake.

There was a knock at the door. Mary, the maid, entered after Sibella called her in. She was carrying a tray with coffee and toast with various fruit concoctions to spread on it.

"Thank you, Mary. Just leave it on the table," she said, sitting up to perch on the side of the bed.

"Yes, Mrs. Holland," Mary replied politely. She set the tray down. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not for the moment. Send someone up in a few minutes to help me dress, please."

"Yes, Mrs. Holland." The maid curtseyed and left the room. The blonde crossed the room to the table with the breakfast tray. Pouring the coffee from the the pot into the teacup, she inhaled deeply. She had always loved the scent of coffee. Sipping delicately, she stepped up to the window and parted the curtains to look outside. Gazing up at the grey sky, she started, then blinked hard, but what she thought she had seen had disappeared. Shaking her head, she dismissed it as the remnants of sleep playing tricks. There couldn't possibly be a woman in the clouds; that was completely ridiculous. She took another sip of coffee, deciding that the sooner she woke up properly the better off she would be.


	5. Chapter 5

Downstairs, Gorby was discussing wine pairings with Mrs. Chard, the cook. He still served fine wine to the countess and Mrs. Holland with dinner, even though the banquet hall had been transformed into an infirmary and they generally took their meals with the soldiers. Soldiers who often shared the wine, for that matter. Thank heavens the cellar was so well-stocked.

Suddenly, he was interrupted by the ringing of a bell. He glanced up and saw that it was the front doorbell. He frowned. There were no new patients expected to arrive that morning. He excused himself and went to open the front door.

A woman was standing there. She looked far too well-dressed to have walked up the hill, but there were no motorcars or carriages in sight. That was not the only peculiar thing about this guest. Gorby could have sworn that the parrot head on the handle of her closed umbrella had turned to look at him. He caught himself staring and quickly regained his composure.

"May I ask who is calling?" he asked the strange woman.

"My name is Mary Poppins. I'm looking for a man named Bert Alfred. I'm told he's a patient here."

"Please step inside and wait while I have a word with the countess. She keeps the list of all the patients." Gorby bowed slightly and left. He returned a few minutes later with Phoebe, who was dressed in her nurse's uniform and was trying very hard to appear as though she had slept, even though she had not.

"Miss Poppins?" the brunette asked.

"Yes, Mary Poppins. Lady Navarro, I presume?"

A shadow of emotion flickered across Phoebe's face at the name Navarro. "Yes, I am. I understand you are here about Mr. Alfred?"

"I am indeed."

"Won't you come this way?" Mary Poppins nodded briefly, following the countess out of the foyer and into the rest of the castle. "Mr. Alfred arrived yesterday afternoon," Phoebe continued. "He's been unconscious since he came in."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"I don't wish to upset you, but it is probably from the pain." Phoebe led her to an occupied bed. "Here we are."

Mary Poppins stood at the foot of the bed, eyes fixed on the man in it. His face was pale, but his dark hair was neat. Someone had combed it. The sheets came up only to his chest, and she could see that his right shoulder and arm were wrapped in white gauze, hiding whatever injuries were underneath. Phoebe watched the other woman intently, preparing to respond to whatever reaction she gave. But she did not cry as the countess had expected. In fact, she seemed remarkably calm.

"What happened to him?" she asked softly, eyes quite dry.

"We believe a shell must have exploded next to him. Whether it was in the trench or in combat, we have no way of knowing without asking him."

"And the extent of his injuries?"

Phoebe consulted the clipboard at the foot of the bed. "Burns across most of the right side, particularly the back of the shoulder and the ribs. Our surgeons removed several small pieces of debris. It is unknown how serious the scarring will be."

Mary Poppins nodded, her lack of emotion almost alarming to Phoebe. If it had been Monty instead of Mr. Alfred, and she had been in Miss Poppins' place, the countess knew she would have been intensely distressed.

"Is he expected to regain consciousness in the near future?"

"Yes. We don't believe there was significant damage to his head, so he could wake up at any time."

"May I sit with him, then?"

"Of course. I'll have Walter bring over a chair for you." Phoebe signaled to a tall footman, who carried a simple wooden chair and set it next to the bed. "Thank you, Walter," Phoebe said. She glanced at the unyielding woman again and then left her with the injured man.

Mary Poppins leaned her umbrella against the foot of the bed and dropped lightly into the chair, folding her gloved hands in her lap, covering her purse. As an afterthought, she reached up to remove her hat and set that in her lap as well. Her posture impeccable, she sat almost motionless for several hours


	6. Chapter 6

"Pardon me," a gentle voice said from the foot of the bed. It was the countess. "I'm helping bring lunch around. Would you like anything to eat?"

"Yes, thank you, that would be lovely," she replied with a slight smile. She hasn't realised she was hungry until the offer of food had been made.

Phoebe took a bowl of steaming soup off of the wheeled cart she was pushing, and placed it, a spoon, and a napkin onto a tray, handing it to the woman.

"Thank you," Mary Poppins said softly.

Phoebe finished distributing the soup and then returned to where Mary Poppins was still sitting perfectly still. "I don't mean to pry," Phoebe began softly, "but who is he? All we have are his name and enlistment information."

"He… he's my dearest friend. And a very good man."

"I see," the countess said, smiling gently. "How do you know one another?"

"We met some time ago, just by chance. But we got to talking and became fast friends."

"How lovely," Phoebe said genuinely, almost wistfully, even. "I met my husband, the earl, after he rescued my late brother from some thugs at the local pub near our home in Salisbury. Henry- that is, my brother- brought him up to see the gardens. I was reading there and nearly walked right into Monty. And then we started talking about our thoughts on the world, and for once, someone was actually listening to what I had to say. We've spoken to one another that way since the beginning."

"He sounds delightful," Mary Poppins said with a slight smile up at the countess. "Is he fighting?"

Phoebe paused for a moment, considering. "I hope so," she replied. "In the last letter I received from him, he said he was in the trenches at the Somme. But I haven't heard from him since the battle began. So I hope he's still fighting because I cannot bear the alternative."

The smile fell from the other woman's face. With a simple motion, she reached up to place a gloved hand on the countess's arm.

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said, regaining her composure. "I don't usually speak like that to strangers."

"You needn't apologise, it's quite alright."

"I need to change Mr. Alfred's bandages. You may stay if you'd like, if it won't upset you to see the wounds."

"I've found that it takes quite a lot to upset me," she replied, standing from the chair so that the countess could take her place at the side of the bed.

Another nurse brought a bowl of hot water, washcloths, and fresh bandages and set them on the bedside table. Phoebe methodically unwrapped the white cloth around Bert's right side, setting the bandages on the table as they came off. Mary Poppins was hit with a pang of nerves, but she stood her ground. Working with a practiced precision, Phoebe and the other nurse dabbed at the flushed skin with the hot water before rewrapping his right side with the new bandages. They had accomplished their task in a matter of minutes.

Dismissing the other nurse, Phoebe turned to Mary Poppins. "Are you alright? Most people find these men's injuries rather disturbing."

"I'm quite alright, thank you," the other woman replied briefly.

"Please excuse me, I have to tend to the other men." Phoebe curtseyed politely. Even though she was a countess and Mary Poppins was not part of the nobility as far as Phoebe knew, this seemed like the sort of woman one ought to curtsey to. The countess took the roll of clean bandages and left.

With the smallest sigh, Mary Poppins dropped back into the chair. Looking about the room, she noted that the flowers on the bedside table of the next man over were beginning to wilt. While her hands remained in her lap, she snapped her fingers quietly and the flowers picked themselves up, standing tall again with renewed colour.

Suddenly, Mary Poppins heard a quiet moan from behind her. She whipped her head back around.

"Blimey," muttered Bert, his eyes still closed. With a gasp, she took his hand.

"Lady Navarro!" she called, a note of urgency in her tone that was a sharp contrast to her previous behaviour.

Phoebe came running, having left her current patient under the care of another nurse. "What is it?" she asked, almost frantically.

At that moment, Bert gave another quiet noise and his eyes fluttered open. Phoebe looked at Mary Poppins, silently telling her to speak first.

"Bert?" she almost whispered, as though she were afraid of what the reply would be. His eyes focused momentarily on her face and lit up as he recognised her. But the beginning of a smile was quickly replaced by a grimace and a sharp intake of breath. "What is it?" Mary Poppins questioned concernedly.

"Cor, that 'urts," the man spat between clenched teeth. The woman looked up pleadingly at the countess, at a loss.

"I can give him something for the pain, but it might put him to sleep again," Phoebe said.

"Do what you need to," the other woman said definitively, standing and stepping to the side slightly, still holding the man's hand.

Phoebe left and returned with a small, dark bottle. She dispensed the liquid into a cup. "Do you think you can hold this in your left hand?" she asked Bert. He nodded. She handed him the medicine, which he swallowed despite a strained look that intensified when the concoction reached his lips. "Mr. Alfred, do you know where you are?" Phoebe asked gently. The man shook his head in a silent response. "You're back in England. This is the hospital at Highhurst Castle, just outside of London. My name is Phoebe D'Ysquith Navarro. I am the head nurse. Please call me Phoebe."

"Navarro?" he breathed.

"That's right."

"Yer 'usband, we was… in the trench together."

Phoebe froze, putting a hand on the side table to steady herself. "Did…" Her voice was barely audible. "Did he go over the top with you?"

"No, 'e was behind my group. I think… 'e 'elped carry me… a stretcher."

The countess clasped her hands to her mouth. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry from relief. Monty was alive, or at least he had been a few days ago. Not only alive, but well enough to help carry the wounded to safety.

"Right gentleman 'e is," Bert muttered. "An' when 'e's… 'ome… I'm- Imma clean yer… chimneys…" He trailed off as he slipped out of consciousness again, the drug beginning to take effect.

"He's a chimney sweep," Mary Poppins explained briefly, with a breathy laugh.

Phoebe smiled, tears beginning to stream down her pale cheeks. "Will you excuse me for a moment, please?" she said to Mary Poppins. Without waiting for an answer, Phoebe sprang up from the chair and ran out of the room. She didn't stop running until she nearly collided with Sibella on the grand staircase.

"Good heavens, what is it? What's happened?" the blonde questioned, immediately noticing Phoebe's agitation.

"Downstairs!" she began incoherently. "Chimney sweep- trench- Monty- alive!"

"Downstairs a chimney sweep is in a trench, and-" but she broke off, registering the end of Phoebe's stammering, her red-rimmed eyes widening. "Monty's alive?"

Phoebe took a deep breath and recovered herself enough to speak properly. "It's Mr. Alfred, one of the men. He woke up today and he said he was in the trench with Monty and that Monty helped carry his stretcher and that as of a few days ago he was still alive. He's still alive!" Phoebe threw herself into Sibella's arms and hopped up and down in celebration, nearly falling down the stairs. The blonde wrapped one arm around the countess's waist and reached out to brace herself against the banister with the other.

"I must tell the staff!" Phoebe exclaimed. She kissed Sibella on the cheek and ran back downstairs to the servants' quarters, leaving the blonde leaning against the banister. As she watched Phoebe dash off as quickly as she had come, she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest and the tears she had only just managed to control came rushing back. Almost collapsing, she sat on the staircase and sobbed, grinning ridiculously.


	7. Chapter 7

"Pardon me, Miss Poppins?" It was the countess. She had barely stopped moving since Mary Poppins had arrived that morning, and it was now dark outside. The other woman turned to look at her, still seated in the chair beside Bert's bed. She had not moved from that post all day.

"I was wondering if perhaps you would like to stay at the castle until Mr. Alfred is more recovered. There are at least a dozen guest bedrooms, and it would be easy for the maids to make one of them up for you."

"Thank you, but I don't wish to be an inconvenience."

"It would be no inconvenience at all. You've been in that chair all day, and I think it likely you plan to return to it tomorrow. It's the least we can do to give you a comfortable bed in between. And we have night nurses on duty who could alert you immediately if Mr. Alfred woke again."

The seated woman gave a slight smile. "You're quite right, I was indeed intending to return to his side tomorrow. If you're certain it wouldn't be any trouble, I'd be glad to accept your generous offer."

Phoebe smiled back. "Wonderful," she said. "I'll notify the staff." She turned and bustled away, as she had so many times already that day.

A few minutes later, a young woman in a maid's uniform approached Mary Poppins. "Miss Poppins?"

"Yes?"

"Lady Navarro asked me to show you to your room. My name is Mary."

The woman in the chair gave the maid a perfect smile. "Mary. What a lovely name. I've always liked it, myself."

The maid smiled back at her. "Thank you, miss. Follow me this way, please." She led Mary Poppins through the opulent rooms of Highhurst Castle, up the grand staircase, and down the hallway to one of many guest bedrooms. The walls were covered in elaborately patterned wallpaper that echoed the carvings on the enormous four-poster bed. There were also a carved wooden vanity, a pair of gorgeously upholstered chairs, a writing desk, a massive embroidered rug, and several decorative vases in the room, not to mention a gigantic fireplace in one of the walls. A large window overlooked the castle gardens.

Mary Poppins paused for a moment upon entering the room, suddenly reminded of the last time she had inhabited a bedroom of such grandeur. Though in place of carved wood there had been gold, and a little blonde boy had come to her in the night, frightened of his dreams.

"Have you any luggage, miss?"

"No, I had not initially planned on staying overnight."

"Very good, miss. Will you be needing anything else?"

"Lady Navarro mentioned that the night nurses might alert me if Mr. Alfred wakes before the morning?"

"I believe she's already spoken to them, miss."

"How very kind of her." Mary Poppins smiled.

Mary the maid turned to go, then turned around again. "Would you like me to find a nightdress for you, miss? I'm sure the countess or Mrs. Holland has a spare."

Mary Poppins hesitated, knowing she had a nightdress in her purse but unsure of how to explain to the maid how she managed to fit an item of clothing into a purse so small. Yet at the same time she was not entirely comfortable wearing a stranger's night clothing.

"No, thank you," she replied after a moment. "I'll be alright."

"Very good, miss," Mary replied, and exited the opulent room.


	8. Chapter 8

Mary Poppins knew there was someone outside her door before they knocked. "Miss Poppins?" a soft voice called.

"Yes, just a moment!" she called back. Throwing back the sheets, she realised she was wearing her inexplicable nightdress. Frustrated and in a hurry, she snapped her fingers and clothing flew about the room, nightdress replaced by a slip and her black skirt. She snatched her coat from the foot of the bed and buttoned it over the slip as she pulled open the door.

A thoroughly competent-looking young woman stood on the other side of the doorway. She had fiery red hair pulled into a practical bun at the back of her head, and she was wearing a nurse's uniform. "I am Nurse McCarthy," she said with an Irish lilt. "Lady Navarro instructed that you were to be notified if Mr. Alfred awoke before morning. He did, just a few minutes ago."

"Thank you for informing me. May I see him?"

"Of course," the nurse replied. "In fact, he's asking for you. Follow me, please." Nurse McCarthy led Mary Poppins back through Highhurst Castle, down the grand staircase, and into the room she had spent the previous day in. Most of the men appeared to be asleep, but there was a candle burning next to one bed. It illuminated the troubled face of Bert, who was sitting with a pillow propping him up in bed. His head turned at the sound of footsteps, and all signs of worry melted away into a charming smile when he saw who was behind the nurse.

It took a considerable amount of willpower for Mary Poppins not to run in front of the nurse straight to Bert. However, she refrained, opting instead to return the man's broad smile.

When they reached Bert's bedside, where the chair remained, Nurse McCarthy murmured, "Please speak quietly. Most of our patients are sleeping."

"Of course," Mary Poppins whispered. "Thank you very much, Nurse McCarthy."

The nurse nodded politely and returned to her duties elsewhere in the long room.

Again taking a seat, Mary reached out to place her hand over Bert's.

"Now," he muttered, "I can't actually feel that 'and."

Her eyes widened in concern. "Why not?"

"The medication they gave me was somethin' right powerful. Can't feel much o' my right side, really." He extended his left hand to her and she took that instead.

"How are you?" she questioned.

"I'm alright, now I can't feel the pain. An' better with you 'ere." She blushed slightly as he pressed her hand.

"When you were awake earlier, you said you'd met Lord Navarro?"

"Oh yeah, in one o' them trenches. Even in a soldier's uniform 'e looks like a gentleman."

Mary Poppins laughed softly, remembering the events of that afternoon. "The countess was so delighted to hear news of the earl. She was practically in tears, it was very sweet."

"I can imagine."

"Do you remember anything of meeting her?"

"It's all looked a little fuzzy, but I think I remember 'er voice. She was the one standin' behind you?"

"Yes, with the dark curly hair. She offered me a room for the night, upstairs. And she told the night staff that I should be summoned if you woke."

"I'll be doin' that chimney sweepin' for free. 'Ow could I possibly ask for more'n that?"

"Oh, Bert," she muttered, smiling, as she blushed again.

"I mean it, Mary. I've been livin' in a fog for who knows 'ow many days. An' I came out of it and there first thing I saw was you. Truth be told, I still wasn't sure I 'adn't died. An' then I was out again so fast that when I woke up again tonight I 'ad to ask one of the nurses if you'd really been 'ere. An' she jus' said 'Jus' a moment,' and went off somewhere an' I thought maybe she was reportin' that I'd been 'allucinatin'. An' then she came back and you was there, all aglow with the candlelight. An' I was alright."

"Oh, Bert," Mary Poppins breathed, trying in vain to blink back tears. He released her hand to reach up and place his palm against her cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the crystal droplets.

"There now," he said softly. "None o' that." She nodded, sniffing, but his hand remained where it was. He stayed like that for a long while, just gazing up at her.

Then, suddenly, his hand tensed slightly, and he winced, fighting back the urge to swear. Reaching her hand up, she slipped her fingers between her cheek and his palm and brought his hand away from her face. He closed his eyes as he ground his teeth together, trying not to cry out, though it felt as though his arm were on fire. Mary Poppins placed her free hand on his chest. Feeling his frantic heartbeat against her hand, she breathed out and focused on his right side. His heartbeat slowed just slightly under her fingers and she knew it was working. Another breath and she pressed her hand more firmly against his chest. A few moments later, Bert opened his eyes to look at her in astonishment.

"I didn't know you could do that," he whispered breathlessly.

"What, help with pain? I would have done it this afternoon, but the nurses were hovering and the other men were awake."

"Mary Poppins, you never cease to amaze me." He shook his head lightly with an amused smile.

"I have no intention of ever ceasing to do that, either," she replied primly. "But you look tired."

"This sort o' pain, it takes a lot out o' you," he said with a nod. Pressing his hand between both of hers, she began to hum, her magic in the melody. Smiling gratefully, he let himself lean into the pillow behind his back. She was humming a slower rendition of the melody he had sung to her in the chalk drawing with the penguins and the horse race. As he allowed her magic to overtake him he felt his eyes grow heavy, remembering how they had danced, and the way she had looked in that lovely white dress, riding sidesaddle on her purple merry-go-round horse.

When she was certain he was fully asleep, Mary Poppins stopped humming. Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Bert," she whispered, gently placing the hand she had been holding on the man's chest. Standing, she smiled down at him for a moment, then turned away to return to her room.


	9. Chapter 9

Phoebe was awake just before dawn the next morning, as she was every morning. She silently slid out of bed, so as not to wake Sibella, and put on her nurse's uniform. She had learned how to style her own hair so that Mary wouldn't have to get up quite so early. With the countess's new occupation had come a new hairstyle as well. She had found that her customary plait got in the way of her work, so she pinned her long, dark curls into a bun under her cap instead. It was not nearly as pretty that way, but that was inconsequential to her work.

Fully dressed and hair pinned, she brushed a kiss against Sibella's temple before making her way downstairs. She picked up her clipboard from administrative headquarters- the library- and skimmed over the nurses' notes from the previous night. She saw that Mary Poppins had been brought down at around two thirty to see Mr. Alfred. Phoebe fervently hoped that the soldier had still been numb from the medicine while they were speaking. It had taken the countess several weeks to get used to constantly being around people in pain. She doubted that her visitor had much experience in that area.

Entering the room where most of the soldiers' beds were, Phoebe was shocked to see that Mary Poppins was already downstairs. According to the notes, the woman had returned to her room at three fifteen, which would have given her a maximum of two hours' sleep before she had apparently returned. Even Phoebe never slept that little.

"Good morning, Miss Poppins," the countess said, whispering because most of the soldiers were still asleep.

"Good morning, your ladyship," she replied brightly.

"I'm afraid it will be a bit before I can offer you anything to eat or drink, unless you'd like a glass of water?"

"That's quite alright. I'll be just fine, thank you."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to change the bandages again."

Mary Poppins nodded and offered the countess her seat. Phoebe methodically unwrapped the bandages and then paused, looking puzzled. She glanced down at her clipboard and then back at Bert. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked.

"Of course," replied Mary Poppins. Phoebe returned momentarily with the nurse who had helped with the bandages the day before. The other nurse looked at Bert's side with the same perplexity that Phoebe had expressed.

"How is that possible, Nurse Neville?" the countess asked.

"I've never seen anything like it," said the nurse.

"Is something the matter?" questioned Mary Poppins.

"Not at all!" Phoebe replied. "Quite the opposite, actually. Mr. Alfred's wounds seem to have made rather remarkable progress in their healing. I can't imagine how. There's still scarring, of course, and some redness, but the burns are vastly improved." She glanced up at Nurse Neville. "We're not accustomed to such rapid recovery."

"It defies all odds," said the nurse dramatically.

Mary Poppins had to stop herself from laughing. This woman had no idea of the extent of things she could defy. Odds, physics, gravity, and whining children were all high-ranking on the list.

Phoebe made a lengthy note on her clipboard, then continued washing and wrapping what remained of Bert's burns. "He is an extraordinarily lucky man, Miss Poppins," she said as she left them.

Mary Poppins smiled to herself, remembering what Bert always said about the luck of chimney sweeps.


	10. Chapter 10

Some time later, the countess returned. "Breakfast is ready," she said, speaking at her normal volume now. "Would you care to join me in the dining room?"

"Certainly, thank you," Mary Poppins replied. She followed Phoebe into yet another elaborately decorated room. This one had a long, dark, wooden table surrounded by carved chairs of the same shade of wood. An enormous painting on the wall depicted some sort of scene from mythology. Windows that spanned nearly the entire height of the wall looked out over the front drive and the gardens, which looked resplendent in the morning sun.

In the carved chairs were seated most of the nurses, plus a woman that Mary Poppins did not recognize. She was the only other woman in the room not wearing a nurse's uniform. Instead, she had on a fashionably tailored pale pink dress with tiny pearl buttons in a line up her back. "Miss Poppins," Phoebe began, "this is my dear friend Mrs. Holland. Mrs. Holland, Miss Poppins."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Mary Poppins said with a smile.

"Charmed, I'm sure," spoke the woman in pink.

Phoebe sat down in the empty chair beside Sibella, and Mary Poppins sat on the countess's other side. Phoebe was at the head of the table, resulting in the other two women being directly across from one another. The few footmen that had not gone off to fight circulated with platters and baskets of food.

Having set a scone on her plate, Mrs. Holland turned her attention to the woman opposite her. "What brings you to Highhurst, Miss Poppins?"

Setting down the teacup she was about to sip from, Mary Poppins looked up. "A friend of mine was injured in France and sent here."

"He made astounding progress overnight," Phoebe chimed in. "None of the nurses quite know what to make of it."

"Is he the one with news of Monty? The earl, that is," Sibella added, the second thought addressed to Mary Poppins.

"Yes, Mr. Alfred," replied the countess. "Miss Poppins has been at his side almost constantly since yesterday morning."

"How very sweet," Sibella remarked, her smile almost a smirk.

Ignoring the sentiment of the blonde's last remark, Mary Poppins took a dainty sip of tea before furthering the conversation. "Is your husband fighting, Mrs. Holland?"

"Oh, yes. _Lionel_." The nanny noted something odd in the way the blonde spoke her husband's name. Something subdued, but almost like distaste.

"Yet you're here at Highhurst Castle rather than at home?" Mary Poppins questioned.

Sibella stopped herself from retorting that she was, in fact, at home. "Yes," she said carefully. "With both of our husbands at the front, the countess and I felt it would be nice to be together." Sibella fully intended to leave the conversation there, but the woman opposite persisted.

"And how are you two acquainted?" she asked politely, looking from Sibella to the countess and back again.

"Mrs. Holland grew up with Monty. We met at a dinner party here at Highhurst, the night Monty and I announced our engagement, before he became earl."

"Wasn't that around the time that the previous earl, Lord Adalbert, passed away?"

"That very night, actually," said Phoebe. "It was a highly eventful few hours."

"Yes, I'd imagine it was eventful indeed!"

"Lord Adalbert's widow, Lady Eugenia, stayed at Highhurst for about a year and a half after Monty and I moved in. She lives in the dower house now. She couldn't abide Bella and Donna, and she was never overly fond of the castle, so she's far happier there."

"And who are Bella and Donna?"

Phoebe's face lit up. "Oh, you must meet them!" she exclaimed. "Miss Shingle," she said, stopping an elderly maid, "would you please bring Bella and Donna in here?"

"Couldn't Miss Poppins meet them after breakfast? I can't speak for her, but personally I would not appreciate fur in my scones," said Sibella gently.

"Fair enough," the countess conceded. She turned to Mary Poppins. "Bella and Donna are my corgis. They were a gift from my late brother, Henry. They really are the sweetest things."

Unnoticed by either of the other women, a spark of recognition appeared in Mary Poppins' eye. These were the two corgis the Inspector had told her about, the ones who had recognised Bert. She had wondered how they had known that Bert was at Highhurst.

"They're not very fond of Lionel," Mrs. Holland said with a smile that could almost be described as sneaky.

"No, indeed they're not," Phoebe agreed, giggling slightly.

"Is Mr. Holland often here at Highhurst?" Mary Poppins asked innocently.

The other two women glanced at each other momentarily. "No," replied Sibella, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, "Not often."

"But you are, yes?"

Sibella's eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded the woman across the table. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"She generally comes to visit whenever Mr. Holland is away," Phoebe added.

"Lionel is unfortunately frequently called away on business, and I don't particularly care for being alone in a house, even with a staff. And Monty and Phoebe are far more pleasant to be around than any maid I employ," the blonde replied with a smile only barely more genuine than the last.

"Thank you, dear, but perhaps you ought to hire friendlier help," the countess commented with a real smile.

"Oh, I've wanted to for some time." Sibella turned to speak to Phoebe. "But Lionel won't hear of it. He's convinced that I must be kept under control, and he's gotten it into his head that our current staff are helpful in that endeavour." Phoebe sipped her tea and glanced at Mary Poppins, praying that her guest was not uncomfortable with Sibella's frank declarations.

But the nanny was far more intrigued than uncomfortable. The more the women spoke, the more she was able to piece together an idea of their personalities and lifestyle. The countess was very sweet, and seemingly unmatched with Mrs. Holland, who was quickly revealing herself to be a saucy and rather waspish woman with a profound animosity toward her husband.

Her attention seemingly focused on her breakfast, Mary Poppins watched as Phoebe gave a small smile and her eyes met Sibella's for a moment. Then, they quickly returned their gazes to their scones.

Though no one else in the room would have thought it anything odd, Mary Poppins knew that look. The way the two women had smiled at each other, she was almost too familiar with their expressions. That was the smile of two people who cared deeply for each other as something more than friends.


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Ahh this chapter is super triggering for me and also I'm running out of chapters to post because I don't have a writing parter anymore (no longer in cahoots) so please forgive me if updates aren't as frequent!_

 _Much love to everyone reading!_

 _\- Angel_

Phoebe's shift ended at eight thirty that night. The countess worked fifteen hour days, with only short breaks for meals, but she did her best to never show her weariness in front of the men. She made her way upstairs to her room, removing her nurse's cap as she reached her door.

Sibella was inside, holding Bella and Donna still so they would not escape through the door when Phoebe opened it. The countess entered, closed the door, and leaned back against it with a sigh. She was exhausted. As the door shut, Sibella let go of the corgis, and they bounded forward to greet their mistress.

"Hello, sweethearts," Phoebe murmured, kneeling down to scratch behind their sizeable ears.

"I hope that includes me," Sibella put in from across the room.

"It does," Phoebe said, laughing. "Would you like a scratch behind the ears as well?"

"I think I'll politely decline that offer," said the blonde with a laugh.

Phoebe rose, the dogs running circles around her, and crossed to her dressing table, where she sat down and began to unpin her hair. Suddenly too tired to move, she rested her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands, half of the pins still in place. She opened her eyes to look at her reflection through her fingers a moment later as she felt hands on her head.

Sibella had come up behind her and was searching for the remaining pins and setting them on the table as she removed them. Phoebe smiled and allowed the blonde to loosen and then brush her long, dark hair. She glanced down at the box in which she kept Monty's letters.

"Why do you suppose he still hasn't written? The news about the battle came five days ago."

"He may very well have written four days ago and the letter simply hasn't been delivered yet. There must be thousands of letters coming from France, all to be delivered to women waiting for news." As she spoke, Sibella came around to Phoebe's left and took her hands, pulling her out of her chair.

"I need to open a newspaper," Phoebe said. "They always get their information first."

"Well, I suppose that's one way of going about it," the blonde replied.

"I could be a nurse during the day and a-" The countess paused to yawn. "A lady newspaper editor at night."

"And when would you sleep?"

"When I was sure Monty was safe."

Sibella sighed, brushing her thumbs across the backs of Phoebe's hands. Instead of continuing to get ready for bed as Sibella expected her to, Phoebe tipped forward to place her head against the blonde's shoulder. Releasing her hands, Sibella wrapped her arms around the brunette, holding her tightly.

"I love you, but I want him back, too," Phoebe murmured, tears beginning to form in her dark eyes.

"I know darling, so do I."

"He's off being all brave and wonderful and I can't even figure out why one of my patients is healing so quickly. I can't possibly be qualified to do this."

"Qualifications or not, you're doing it very well. And I should think that a patient healing quickly would be the least of your worries."

"It just confuses me. I was discussing it with the other nurses at luncheon and none of us know what to make of it. None of the other men have responded so rapidly to the exact same treatments. I have a literary mind, not a scientific one."

"And my mind is neither literary nor scientific, but it does know that you're being a great help to these men. Phoebe, you've saved lives! So if one man heals faster than others, all the better. But my mind also knows that you're exhausted."

"I won't argue with that," Phoebe agreed. She gently removed herself from Sibella's embrace and went to change. A moment later she wore a pale blue nightdress that flowed down to her ankles. The countess climbed into her side of the bed and nestled herself into the blankets. A moment later, she was joined by Sibella. Placing her hand on the brunette's waist, she pressed her lips to Phoebe's in a gentle kiss.

"Goodnight, love," Phoebe whispered, already half asleep.

"Goodnight, my darling," Sibella murmured, pulling her closer. Eyes closed, Phoebe's mouth turned up in a slight smile. The brunette drowsily reached her left arm over Sibella and gently held her there. The two women soon fell asleep in each other's embrace, each comforted by the presence of the other.


End file.
